Hearts Reduced to Ashes
by Thyme In Her Eyes
Summary: Prague - An angry mob attacks and tortures Drusilla and a distraught Spike finds her...


Hearts Reduced to Ashes  
  
Author : CrimsonFuchsia  
  
Pairing : Spike/Drusilla  
  
Rating : PG-13 (rated for some violence and Spike's potty mouth)  
  
Spoilers : None. Just Spike and Dru in Prague.  
  
Summary : Prague - An angry mob attacks and tortures Drusilla and a distraught Spike finds her.  
  
Timeframe : 1996 so before Season 2  
  
Distribution : All you need to do is ask  
  
Disclaimer : I'm not Joss and I'm not making any money and these characters do not belong to me, if you haven't figured it out yet. I'm just a penniless writer.  
  
Feedback : Give me feedback and I'll have your babies! ^_^  
  
Author's Note: This is just a quick 'ficcie to take up a little time between my multi-chapter Spike/Dru 'fic. This is in no way related to 'Blood Flows There Like Wine' and to all the fans of it I haven't given up on it and left it half finished, I promise. This fanfic is just a minor distraction, but please enjoy it anyway ^_^  
  
Hearts Reduced to Ashes  
  
Prague, 1996  
  
Disbelief flooded his senses. He was drugged into a stoic stupor by the horror no more than a few feet in front of him. New feelings awakened in his dead veins. So this was what nausea, fear, horror and insane grief was like. Not that he was consciously aware of any of it – all his thoughts and the feelings that bubbled and burned in a raging tempest in his heart devoid of a beat were directed solely on her. Always her.  
  
Drusilla…his princess, his black goddess, his pet, his ripe wicked plum, his love. The only one he loved. The only being on earth he cared about more than himself. The one he'd prefer to be dust than dare hurting. The vampiress he'd spent a good century with and couldn't even contemplate living without. His Dru…  
  
But she was Drusilla no more, or at least that's how it seemed. He was robbed of all thought by the dreadful sight of what she had been reduced to. His numb mind was bombarded with images of her, all her different moods and emotions. Each tiny memory haunted him, pierced his heart like a wooden stake. All her emotions her moods. Her dreamy gaze when she received her visions, her intense eyes, her bright smile of seduction, childish feeling, wickedness and love. Her sad pout when he sometimes snapped at her, her sweet looks of affection, her passion when they made mad fervent love, her childlike devotion to her dolls, her artistic concentration when with her victims, the lost lonely girl that occasionally shone through…his Drusilla. His one and only.  
  
He stood still. Absolutely bloody still when his baby needed him. He cursed himself for being such a useless bastard excuse of a lover and – albeit self-professed – protector of his lady love. But the sight of her stunned him into stillness and silence. Had he blood in his face it would've drained from it in shock and horror. Normally he was a man of action. Had been two minutes ago when he was racing wildly to reach her in time, punching his way through the crowd, his only thoughts racing wildly  
  
(oh god please let her be alright oh god Dru it's alright I'm on my you'll be fine princess gotta save her gonna rip anyone that laid a finger on her limb from limb)  
  
through his mind. His enraged blood boiled with the thought of anyone hurting her. He made no attempt to hide anything as he lunged through crowds in his grotesque vampire guise, anything to make them bloody MOVE. He had felt panic and cold unforgiving dread and if he had a pulse, it would have been racing. Drusilla…  
  
Despite his best efforts, shouting and roaring wildly, ripping out the throats of anyone that dared get in his way, not even stopping to savour the bloodlust for a moment, not even stopping to mutter a single obscenity he arrived too late. Much too late.  
  
(it was only a kid just one bloody kid out of millions of the little buggers she loves children oh fuck why did I leave her alone I'm gonna rip them to pieces why'd that damn mob have to turn up then why wasn't I there bloody hell she's alright she has to be)  
  
He'd arrived at an abandoned warehouse where they'd taken her after beating her senseless in fury where they'd done God-knows-what to her. Angry mobs where known to kill demons if they knew how. Denial had his world, foolish reassurances that she'd be fine – a little worse for wear but fine. He'd kill anyone that hurt her, scoop her in his arms just ecstatic to hold her again and carry her away to safety and never let ago again. He loved her so much the memory of the fantasy felt like it was ripping his insides apart.  
  
When he'd arrived he realised the worst. There'd been so many people outside because they believed their work was done. They weren't arriving, they were…leaving. The next was a blur as the terrible realisation hit him with numbing precision as he ripped apart the last unfortunates  
  
(bloody bastards)  
  
as they left, some chuckling, some whispering in fear of a demon's wrath, some ushering others, some wanting to wait and see what happened when the sun rose. He killed them all and would've enjoyed it had he not been so panicked with worry for his princess. In the corner of his eye he noticed a woman in a tweed jacket emotionlessly observe then leave, writing notes. A watcher. Bloody things. But she wouldn't save the ones that hurt Drusilla. In a blur of slashes, gashes, pounds of fists and blood they were all gone – beaten mutilated corpses. He hardly noticed, having only one thing on his mind as he reached the entrance, half-afraid of what he might find. Only one thing on his rage and fear filled mind.  
  
(Drusilla)  
  
What he saw froze his long-dead vampiric blood. Froze his entire body in shock, horror and sheer disbelief. It was…  
  
(oh god bloody hell fuck no no no no no no no no no not Dru no)  
  
…Drusilla.  
  
He was frozen to the spot as he took in everything that surrounded him, overwhelmed him. Erected at the centre of a nondescript mundane warehouse was a pole carved in the shape of a cross surrounded by straw. Burnt straw. Blackened by a newly extinguished fire.  
  
He had no idea how long in was struck dumb by horror of what they did to her and in pure fury at their act against his goddess  
  
(I'll kill them I'll kill every single one of them they hurt her they'll scream I'll make them bloody scream)  
  
but instantly the initial shock began to loosen his grip, but not without leaving the deadly scar of the memory behind engraved deeply in his mind. His anger was overwhelmed by the instinctive desire to hold her again, to protect her, make her better again. They burnt her…  
  
He walked slowly forward, his pace quickening with every step until it become a fast stagger towards the pitiful motionless figure at the centre of the room. In the final steps towards her he collapsed to his knees in nausea and scampered towards her. His horror grew as he took a terrifying closer look at what a mob could inflict. His instinct was to reach out towards her, touch her, untie her, hold her but his better knowledge and concern for her life held his passions back. Looking at her broke his cold, twisted heart.  
  
Her form was motionless drooping down towards the ground and blackened by ash of the fire and thick, all-engulfing smoke. She looked like a corpse in her unconscious form and the thought caused alarm bells to ring in his mind. His stomach tied itself in furious fearing knots as his gut screamed that something was very, very wrong…that she might be…gone. She was held up to the cross that probably burnt and strained her not by ropes as he thought  
  
(there's ropes she got free of them Dru baby I'm sorry I should've gotten here sooner I can't lose you)  
  
but pinned there by two small stakes, right through her palms, crucifying her. Spike's blood seemed to boil. Looking at her, his eyes seemed to burn more though. Now he had a closer look he saw she was covered in the dark purple bruises and gashes of a violent beating. However, her torture didn't end with beatings, a semi-crucification or burning – a rosary was tied around her head like a crown of thorns burning her scalp even now. Another cross was hung around her neck, burning its terrible shape into her lovely chest that was once as pale and cool as ivory or marble for him to get lost in.  
  
(OHMYFUCKINGGOD HER CHEST!!!)  
  
Protruding from a deep angry wound in her chest was a thick crudely fashioned stake.  
  
(DRU! DRU! I'LL KILL THEM I'LL KILL ALL OF THEM OH GOD DRU DON'T DIE PLEASE YOU CAN'T I CAN'T BLOODY LOSE YOU I FUCKING NEED YOU I LOVE OH SHIT DRU BABY…)  
  
His thoughts screeched to him loudly, deafening all other conscious thought. The stake must have missed her heart, that was why she lived, lived in a state of agony beyond pain. Spike sharply ripped out the smaller stakes that held her body that longed for rest to the terrible cross, taking the time to massage and kiss the palm before gently letting her collapse in his arms. He had no idea what to do. The larger stake HAD pierced her heart and its wood was poisoning her bloodstream by the looks of it but hadn't properly staked her, hadn't pierced all the way through.  
  
Something more natural to a vampire than the empty void of grief that a world without Drusilla came to him. Something that empowered him. Rage. Pure hatred with mad fury that burnt through him. He envisioned himself burning the whole city down, if he wanted he could go out in the open and kill, maim and torture as many people as he could. He wanted them to suffer. He wanted to HURT them. They destroyed his world. Through the red mist concern for Drusilla broke through, intruding on his private imaginings of vengeance. Concern for her, no…  
  
(say it already admit it you know Dru knows just say it)  
  
love for her was stronger. Now he felt…empty. He chuckled, causing a hoarse, choked noise at the back of throat through the tears  
  
(no, ash in my eye)  
  
that threatened to spill. Funny, how he had the imagination to devise creative new ways to torture his victims but lacked the imagination to even comprehend one night's existence without her.  
  
He felt like a lost child, losing all it had in the world. No, he was losing his entire world, he was losing Drusilla. He didn't know how to help her – he was terrified that trying to remove the stake would cause it to accidentally drive all the way through his princess's heart. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to die, he wanted to hold her close to him and cry like a child, he wanted her to rouse in his arms and tell him she was fine that it was all an illusion. He held her limp seemingly-lifeless broken body to his chest, carefully avoiding contact with the stake, swaying back and forth feeling a terrible pain course through him. The loss slammed into him like a similar stake through his own heart, reducing it to ashes, reducing him to a shell of what he once was. He felt terrible grief, worse than anything he felt at Cecily's rejection.  
  
(a million times worse, Cecily's NOTHING compared to Dru oh god Dru please be fine Dru…)  
  
His thoughts trickled away from words to a brigade of faces, all her faces, all her words, all their time together, every interaction reminding him of what he was losing what he'd never see again. He wasn't even aware he was acting like – as he would put it – a pathetic Nancy boy but it didn't matter. He didn't care. He wanted Dru back and he knew no way to help her. His hand lingered on the stake knowing what he could do. She was suffering. His hand moved from the damned stake to her face, her hair  
  
(those midnight locks I could bury myself in oh Dru fuck no I can't I shouldn't even think about it)  
  
for one final touch, one final caress before darkness. Her alabaster skin was burnt and charred, her hair singed but she was still beautiful. Still the keeper of his heart. Always. He was dimly aware that his eyes felt they were burning out of their sockets.  
  
(no William the Bloody doesn't cry)  
  
He lightly fingered the wood of the crude stake that caused her such suffering. He could see the last expression on her face was one of pure agony and suffering.  
  
(finish her)  
  
He hesitated, drawing in an unneeded breath. He couldn't.  
  
(no can't dust her I can't)  
  
His hand twitched.  
  
(bloody hell finish her already you sodding git it's your fault she's like this now do the best thing and end it for her you bloody coward)  
  
He still hesitated, mesmerised by her face, longing for her lovely onyx eyes to open just once more.  
  
(FINISH HER!)  
  
Her head stirred ever-so-slightly and his world stopped for a thousand years as he watched her slowly regain frail consciousness and return to him. It was the tiniest, weakest most helpless movement imaginable, like a tiny particle of sweet life in a broken doll, but it was enough. Her long- lashed eyes fluttered open and gazed wearily, the pupils hugely dilated, barely registering in her mind who it was that was holding her so tenderly as though she were the most precious object in the galaxy. She let out a weak groan, looking too weak to be distressed but her eyes  
  
(oh god her beautiful dark eyes swallowing me she's looking at me recognises me yeah it's alright ducks Spike's here I'm here now I'm not going to let anyone hurt you and I'm going to skin that nasty mob alive alright princess)  
  
locked firmly onto his. They looked confused, almost sad but still timelessly lovely, dark as midnight and as always full of feeling. But they looked so far away now. Her sweet lips trembled slightly, she was struggling to say something. Spike instinctively leaned towards her protectively and brushed a loose lock away from her cool face and kissed her forehead before stilling her lips with a trembling finger.  
  
(I'm sorry Dru baby I'm so bloody sorry)  
  
"Shh pet, it's alright I'm here now…that idiot mob's gone now. I tore them to messes for you, ducks." he trailed off. Her body was giving small, agonised jerks and likewise he found himself trembling too. God, she meant so much to him…  
  
"S-Spike…" she managed, her voice a ghost of a whisper, barely audible.  
  
"Yeah, it's me Dru. Your Spike's here, your William."  
  
A small dim light appeared in her dreamy gaze "My William…"  
  
"Yeah…yours pet, all yours."  
  
"Spike?" she croaked, her voice like torn silk in confusion "Why are you crying?" she struggled to lift her hand to touch his cheek which to his dismay he realised allowed a solitary tear to escape the prison of his icy eyes.  
  
(damn it she needs a man now stop being such a bloody ponce and pull yourself together I'm sorry pet I'm sorry oh)  
  
She made a gentle, soothing sound at the back of her throat "You haven't cried since I first found you…"  
  
Her small hand failed miserably in its quest so her lover lifted it gently to his lips then cupped it to the offending cheek.  
  
"You oughtn't cry, you're so golden and pretty and all those nasty fires crosses and stakes that made they world turn red and all the dragons spit at me are gone. The sun's come out too, can you see it? This one doesn't hurt though, her kisses are chaste and tender like the moon." She laughed weakly "She looks like a buttercup."  
  
"You don't need to worry about no bleeding sun Dru, you're gonna be fine, you'll heal, I'll find a cure I promise."  
  
"Mmm…lovely medicine…I feel so sick now…but the sunshine feels so lovely on my skin. It was such a pity Daddy took it away. But you're giving it to me now, you shine for me like the sun but now you're crying like sweet raindrops and you're making wonderful rainbows."  
  
"Come on Dru you don't want to die, you're a princess remember? They live happily ever after." He pleaded desperately.  
  
"If I'm dust then I'll be whispers on the wind and I'll dance forever…don't think I can dance in this body…it's been all broken…it all hurts, my Spike. It teases me. Crushed me to pieces, naughty hobgoblins. All my limbs twist and turn and try to break free and I can feel dark clouds moving through my blood and I fire in my heart. It's not nice. I want to dance."  
  
Spike's eyes were desperate and full of warmth and anguish "I'll dance with you Dru, I always will just stay here and we can dance forever if you like, I'll make you strong again I promise. We can play too, we'll play all your favourite games."  
  
"They broke princess to pieces and stomped with nasty feet. All gone now."  
  
"You're not gone yet Dru and I'm not gonna let you go either. What about Miss Edith? She's waiting for you, she wants to have a tea party."  
  
"I feel warm." She whispered, her strained voice rapidly weakening.  
  
"No you don't!" he almost growled.  
  
"You look so pretty, my love."  
  
"This isn't the time for this, alright!"  
  
(ugh don't shout at her she doesn't need this she doesn't deserve to be shouted at you idiot)  
  
He remembered himself "I'm sorry pet, forgive me. I love you. I don't want to lose you, you'll be fine alright. No matter where the cure is I'll find it, even if it costs me an arm and a leg I'll make you better. I can't lose you."  
  
"I love you too my Spike. Love you more than the moon." She shuddered "I'd give Miss Edith to demon dogs for you, my love. I don't want to go away, I want to dance with you but my mummy's calling. She wants me to come home and she won't scold me if I hurry. They'll all give me primroses and daises. And I feel so tired…they're all pulling me out…making swirls of light and dark…"  
  
"Dru..."  
  
"Princess loves you." She whispered, on the verge of unconsciousness and a dusty death. She'd used all her strength just to speak to him.  
  
(all my fault)  
  
His grief at losing his black goddess hit him like a shaft of sunlight. He found voice in a cry not of gentle sorrow but of betrayal, loss, grief, madness fury, outrage and the most passionate transcendence of love.  
  
He screamed at her with this new strength.  
  
"DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME, DRU! DON'T YOU DARE! Or I'll follow you into the next life and KILL you!" hot tears of helpless rage were given release as they streamed down his face contorted not by a shift to his vampiric features but of his powerful feeling.  
  
Drusilla smiled the faintest of smiles "My Spike." She whispered hoarsely but with pride and love.  
  
His hand found the stake again whilst his free hand sought her own and clasped it affectionately and pulled it against his chest, over his heart, his thumb absently stroking it reassuringly. She was too weak to squeeze back but her index finger began moving, twitching slightly and there was no more distress or pain in her eyes, only calm. Her lips curled ever-so- slightly upwards in a ghost of a smile. He grinned at her, trying to give a charming, confident demeanour but he knew she saw right through it.  
  
(she always did)  
  
"I love you Dru." He said before quickly jerking the stake out of her frail body and crushing it in his palm till it was no more than splinters. Its departure was rough and she found voice in a small cry of pain as it left her body. Spike crushed his lips to hers, terrified that he hadn't been precise enough, that he'd killed her in trying to save her. He kissed her, fearing it would be their last kiss, embracing her to him tightly savouring everything, remembering every detail in the split seconds before she would vanish in a cloud of dust.  
  
(I love you so much)  
  
The split seconds passed.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Drusilla lived.  
  
She was horrifyingly weak, damaged, vulnerable and helpless but she lived. Spike felt so much joy he thought his heart might start beating again from the ecstasy of happiness that consumed him. He gave a whoop of joy that was almost uncharacteristic and pulled her into his arms and held her tightly as though if he loosened his grip she might break or vanish. She slowly, painstakingly managed to pull her legs up and crouch in a foetal position, her head leaning against her lover's chest, her hand still firmly clasped in his.  
  
"Still weak. Broken. All the poison. Makes my hair fall out."  
  
It hurt him  
  
(no kills me)  
  
to see her like that, a shadow of the great vampire she once was. So weak, helpless and vulnerable. But she was alive. He could hold her. He'd find a cure if he had rip the earth apart to find a cure, he would. He would restore her.  
  
"You're still a princess, love." He murmured reverently, stroking her charred locks, after giving her forehead a gentle kiss.  
  
"Can't be rough now…"  
  
"I have to be gentle for a while, pet. You're weak…I promise I'll make you better though. All better. It'll all go away then we can dance in the moonlight."  
  
"Will you replace me for a strong pretty thing, one you can play with and don't have to look after?"  
  
"No Dru!" he said, offended "Never. I love you and I'd carry on bloody loving you even if you were dust."  
  
He got to his feet, cradling her invalid form in his strong arms with strength and tenderness "I'll stay with you forever Dru, no matter what happens." He pulled her closer to him.  
  
"Forever…even if Miss Edith disapproves?" her voice trailed off, lacking the strength to add more.  
  
"I don't give a toss about whether Miss Edith approves or not – I love you and we'll be together forever. Till death do us part and all, ducks." Although he tried to brush off the significance of his vow, she still picked it up. She snuggled closer, her nails causing shallow cuts on his alabaster pale skin. He moaned in pleasure and kissed her hair with love. Drusilla smiled faintly.  
  
"In sickness and in health?" she asked quietly, more to herself than to him.  
  
"Yeah, love. In sickness and in health."  
  
*THE END* 


End file.
